Scars That Never Fade
by Sakura-chan88
Summary: COMPLETE. A girl lost in a world that shuns her tells a story of herself- a girl who wanted nothing more than to have someone care for her, to love her... And that person listened... IK for little moments...
1. Prologue

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Prologue

"Mama had a miscarriage one day.

Daddy had a stroke when he learned.

Grandma died of a heart attack that morning.

Grandpa died of a broken heart that afternoon.

I was thrown away in the evening.

I was thrown away.

Talk about depressing thoughts. They ran through my head everyday. Especially when I was forced to sit through another pointless session with some stone-faced psychologist.

Mama didn't want me- she got pregnant.

Daddy didn't want me- he tossed me out the door.

Grandma didn't want me- never speaking, the old mute.

Grandpa didn't want me- he left me all on my own that day.

I didn't want me either- so I cut myself.

I didn't want me either.

It was a never ending cycle. Always the same words, the same feelings, the same disdainful impressions. And the therapy only made it worse. The professional would hold up a picture and say,

'Kagome, what do you see?'

Mama screaming.

Daddy yelling.

Grandma dying.

Grandpa leaving.

Me alone and crying about it all.

Me alone and crying.

But I'd say, 'Two birds and a fig leaf- or is that the dove with the olive leaf spoken of in The Bible? I think I can make out the ark.'

They'd just move on to the next picture, writing something down on their clipboard. 'And now?'

Mama wailing.

Daddy laughing.

Grandma frowning.

Grandpa scowling.

Me mopping lonely in a corner.

Me mopping lonely.

And I'd say, 'Rain drops and sunshine.'"

"But, why?"

"That's simple," Kagome replied, smiling at the man before her as he leaned closer, genuine love and concern in his eyes. "It's what they wanted to hear."

"Then tell me your story. Tell me it all, Kagome." He grasped her hand, squeezing it in a gentleness she had only vaguely knew existed. "It's what I want to hear."

* * *

A/N: It's a very short Prologue, I know, but this is what I wanted to give as a first impression. I hope you like this story. It will be considerably short (only four chapters and only 18 pages in all, or so), but I think it's worth a read-through.

Disclaimer: I'll put this only once. I do not own Inuyasha- never have, never will.


	2. Hopes of an Orphan

"I'd had three foster homes and I'd been in an orphanage for 9 years. By the age of 15, I knew nothing of the outside world other than I was somehow much different and obviously unwanted by it. I never saw a movie except for those the orphanage made in order to receive pity on us by adults who wanted to help, so they'd adopt us without asking if it was what we wanted. It's not a bad thing, I suppose... Too many people would have been hurt to hear, 'I wanna stay in this rat infested, decaying Hell hole. I don't want to go- you're ugly, and you smell, and you don't know me, and you'll just throw me away, anyhow.' Yet, we never would have said those things anyway, because our matron was always threatening us. She threatened, and we learned.

We learned to be polite and learned to hope, albeit we knew hoping only hurts more. So, we hoped they would like us and we hoped we liked them and we hoped our hopes weren't wasted as wishes were.

We never thought to wish, us orphans. Wishing was in fairytales and fairytales are stories filled with people who hoped- and their hopes weren't wasted. We weren't in a fairytale. I wasn't in a fairytale.

I never wished- not on a star, not for a coin to hear as it was pulled down into the darkness of a well, not for the wind to carry away to the heaven's that closed their ears and eyes and pity and loving, inviting, warming arms not meant for me or the others like me.

We weren't saying we were completely unhappy, and I didn't want pity- the others didn't either, I'm sure. The truth is, we didn't know how we felt- Love? Joy? Fear? Hate? Sadness? Happiness? We heard those are emotions...

I always felt a great weight pressing on my shoulders- slumping them, sloping them, shaping them- and a constant need for physical contact with something or someone.

Eri said it was guilt. Ayumi said it was self-pity. Yuka said it wasn't an emotion at all, just a tendency.

What's a tendency? Oh, a constant disposition to some action or state. Thank-

Thank what for dictionaries? God didn't exist anymore after what he had let happen to me and the others. Goodness wasn't tangible. The orphanage was a prison even if it had been what had supplied it- and why thank a prison that held you hostage? Plus, no dictionary can explain feelings.

Yet, 'tendency' just didn't fit with what I felt. I knew it was an emotion, but I also knew it wasn't guilt. It could have been self-pity, but that wasn't the full extent. It couldn't have been...

I gave up trying to understand it after the last foster home rejected me and sent me back to the orphanage. For the longest time, a feeling I called Confusion calmed me- no one ever told me why I kept being sent back. Perhaps it was my slumped shoulders. Yet, Confusion was cast aside very soon, yet it still stayed in the background, haunting as it hid in the deepest black of my core.

The last time I was sent back, something was bubbling inside of me. It felt like my own blood was set to boil and cook away my very being. I didn't know what it was- fear, anger, frustration, hatred? I knew it was one of those because I knew those were bad feelings that no one liked to have.

Just like no one liked to have me.

So, I welcomed the feeling and buried it inside to let it simmer and expand and fill me. When it told me to do something, I did it. When it told me to say something, I said it. When it told me to feel, think, like something, I felt, thought, and liked it.

I gave the feelings a house and, in return, I got a friend and a shield from all that was outside in the world that attempted to hurt me with words and looks of what I knew had to be disgust or pity.

One day, the matron told me to shut up because I was speaking out of turn during lunch.

My feelings told me to let them go so they could hurt her. I did it.

My feelings picked up the plate my food was on and threw it. Then my fork, next my knife.

I was sent to a psychologist and learned very quickly that she didn't care what was really going on. Her eyes always glazed over and a frown painted her face when I said the truth and what I thought I felt. When I told her a sugar coated version of my life, things got better- she believed everything more. She couldn't understand the full truth.

Soon, after I was transferred to a new person, I had fabricated a whole new life...

I had changed the story of my life to that of a better one, one with what I knew would have been a happier me. And I liked that me, not the me I was. My feelings I had housed, the anger or fear or hatred, they didn't like that I was liking something other than them- they didn't like that I didn't like me.

'Your blood will never change, just as your past,' it told me. Then said, 'cut yourself and see.'

I did it.

I saw it.

My blood.

A new feeling swept through me. It was the feeling of finally being able to release the anger and make it grow at the same time- give it room to breath and grow because it was being used, but no one cared enough to really give it adequate attention. They just threw me to another person because they didn't care, then those people threw me to another...

Over and over, I was thrown away.

Just like my daddy. Daddy never cared, they never cared, I never cared...

But...

That's just what I wanted to believe- that I never cared.

I kept cutting myself.

I saw it.

My blood.

It never changed.

I never changed.

And neither did the people around me.

* * *

A/N: First off, I'd like to thank Ama (Shades of Oblivion for the title and the boost of confidence he gave me. Thank you.

Secondly, I'd like to thank all of my reviewers for taking the time to put in a word or two about what they thought. All reviews your greatly appreciated. Thank you all.

Thirdly, I'd like to thank everyone for NOT yelling about adding another new fic with so many others on hold. Really, thank you.

Hm.... I think that's all the thanks I can afford to give out today!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review. Only two chapters left.


	3. Housed Emotions

"It was the last session I had with Dr. Tsubaki... Something happened.

'Kagome, as you are aware, your Matron-'

'Yura...'

'Yes, Yura,' she said, nodding. 'She is thinking of handing you over to the authorities if you don't clean up your act. Tell me, why is it you don't care?'

Should I tell her? Should I snort and ignore whatever she said afterward? Should I let my feelings, which I finally named Chaos, take over?

Chaos answered my question when she picked up the table and threw it at Dr. Tsubaki, screaming words I didn't understand, but I knew were mean and unnecessary...

Then Chaos stopped, because I collapsed at a new feeling surrounding me.

I realized... I did care- Chaos was how I displayed it. Chaos was how I showed people I cared- that I cared about me, myself, and only me. I was hurting myself because I cared enough to treat the wounds afterwards, and that was the only feeling of love I ever received- from myself.

'I do care,' I had whispered, looking up to the woman considered a professional in making everything better for me mentally- yet the thoughts still rain through my head-

Mama didn't love me.

Daddy didn't care for me.

Grandma didn't kiss me good night.

Grandpa didn't assure me everything was right.

I didn't know me for who I was.

I didn't know me.

-and I laughed, Chaos throwing her hands in the air with a deep chuckle of her own. 'I care more than you or any other person out in this world. I care about myself! See these cuts-' I screamed, ripping my sleeves- 'that no one bound for me! See these wounds that dripped my blood! See these scars that remind me of the times no one cared about me and my well being, except for myself!

'Do you see!?'

She was shocked into silence for never having seen my sealed self-inflicted injures, but hearing of their existence. Obviously, she had thought it was not so bad as it was, and she hastened to call security as Chaos drowned my mind in painful darkness, my arms bleeding from the unkempt, broken, jagged claw like nails extending from my finger tips that scratched me for a new release of anger.

I heard Chaos screaming, the darkness becoming the handicap that allowed clarity of words being said to encompass me. She had yelled, 'See my blood- it boils with fury for the times I've been near people like you that think something's wrong, but never care to hear the true story. It's eating away at my skin each time I draw it because, every time, it's ignored and disregarded when it cries out loud for attention! See my blood- it calls! It calls! Be damned and have your damnation be written in this enraged blood!"

When I woke up, I was in the institute.

In the Mentally Unstables' prison.

In Madness' Mouth.

In Chaos's home...

She was free... where I was trapped.

Now, I had a better reason to bleed. To give her life, freedom, release, love- and I still had none.

But I was only filled with sadness. Sadness replaced the anger, hatred, frustration, and fears that made Chaos who she was.

Again, I embraced the feeling- the sadness, the depression, the cruel truth that no one cared for me, no one ever did, ever would... Sadness made me its home and I gave her a name- Calamity.

When Calamity said, 'don't speak,' I didn't speak. When Calamity said, 'don't do it,' I didn't do it. When Calamity said, 'don't feel, think, or like,' I didn't feel, think, or like anything. When Calamity said, 'don't care,' I didn't care... or, at least, I tried not to.

Calamity didn't like that I couldn't not care what others thought, felt, or said about me, so she clenched my throat closed against food and words... She controlled the way I walked and looked at those around me. I heard I always had this pitiful sheen to my eyes, or this stare that said, 'I'm in pain and no one has helped me,' yet, somehow, held no accusatory tone to it. She would have drooped my shoulders further, if she could have, but they had already become stiffly sloped and sternly shaped to the fullest extent. I had done a good enough job with my shoulders, she decided. Congratulations, from her, was a stream of bitter sweet tears. That was her way of laughing for joy.

After all, she had a house, a body, a mind. She had a life to live, and she lived it while trying to kill me. She wanted her home to be free of a spirit that, if it wished, could turn against her and reject her fully.

Calamity starved me.

I was trapped, Chaos was free, Calamity was in a balance- trapped with me in a body she wanted for her own, and now able to move freely. I had been wounded so deeply by Chaos's parting, that I didn't care what Calamity was doing.

I thought she was a friend, looking out for me in her own strange way as I had thought Chaos was doing.

Then it came.

The starvation wasn't working fast enough for her.

She tried to overdose my body with the medication handed out with dinner. She clamped my mouth shot when I wanted to shout away the pain lacing through my stomach and limbs, telling me, 'death is better. You're free. God will care for you.'

But...

I remembered...

There was no God watching me...

He let all of this happen! The cuts on my arms! The abyss in my soul that kept housing hurtful, harmful, disturbingly strong and withheld emotions! The coldness thrown my way every time someone tossed me any sort of look- pitying, disgusted, calm- just as my family, the foster homes, and the orphanage had discarded me! The people who didn't care, who couldn't care less!

So, I rebelled against Calamity and shrieked out all my frustration, all my anger, all my pain, all my sadness and despair- everything the clinic people called 'depression'. I blew it all out through my lungs in unintelligible roars.

I hadn't spoken in so long that my voice cracked and my wind pipes collapsed on me- or perhaps it was the drugs taking affect- and the institute's personnel were beside me before I even hit the ground.

Again, I was tossed away.

From Chaos's home, into Calamity's...

Medical doctors cared more about my wounds than my mental state, but they still cared. So, with Chaos and Calamity gone, as Calamity had found its abode, I embraced Confusion once more, wondering why these people cared...

Then I realized. They cared because they had to- they had to care for me for the time I was there in order to get rid of me and collect the money someone was paying. Who was paying? I had no idea.

Confusion became Comprehension, and Comprehension became Acceptance.

No one cared.

There, in the hospital, I took a scalpel from a tray that passed by me in the hall on it's way to a surgery without the nurse noticing since she had turned to talk to the red-head behind a desk. Right on the spot, right there in the hall with the patients and doctors and nurses milling about, right there for the world to see as it had so many times before when no one had cared, I put the blade to my skin, Chaos seeping back into the abyss of my heart, my mind, my soul because there was such a wide chasm, wide enough for Chaos and Confusion and Calamity and Acceptance to reside and fight for dominance without anything to disturb them or work side by side with one another to destroy me without being spotted or noticed, and I cut myself. A to-the-bone deep, width-of-the-wrist wide incision.

And I saw it.

My blood.

It hadn't changed.

I hadn't changed.

And neither did the people around me.

No one cared.

No one cared.

I remember wishing I didn't either.

No one cared...

... But me.

Mama thought I wasn't enough.

Daddy thought nothing of me.

Grandma thought I was a ghost.

Grandpa thought nothing was wrong.

I thought they were right- I wasn't bad, just not enough, because I was nothing but a ghost.

I thought they were right.

Why that thought entered my mind at that particular moment, I will never know. I was just getting up and moving for the first time in two weeks after my actions, just waiting for the doctors to toss me to the side of the road now that I was fine, again, and an extra burden to them while I was well. Everyone else had...

Then, just after I thought that, one of the nurses came to talk to me. The same nurse who had pushed the cart carrying the instrument that had almost killed me.

'Kagome,' she said, nodding to me. I, having rid myself of Confusion, Chaos, and Calamity, nodded back. 'Do you remember me?'

The nurses and doctors all asked this. They thought, I suppose, that the drugs may have ruined my memory, or I was so unstable mentally to remember anything. So, I just nodded again and spoke her name. 'Sango.' She smiled.

'I have a friend I'd like you to meet.'

'Why?' This brought Confusion back, and Confusion lit herself up like a light bulb, burning bright in my eyes. Why would anyone want me to meet someone they knew? I only saw this woman twice before- she was at my side when I woke up, thinking she was responsible for my actions- and even so, no one ever gave me a second glance or thought before- so, why!?

'I think he can help you.'

Those were dreaded words to me. Words I never wanted to hear- ever! I remembered Dr. Tsubaki and Chaos's reply.

'Help me... Help me...! No one cares enough to help me!'

Sango took a step backwards, surprised and frightened by my violent reaction to her simple statement. With shock griping her throat, she whispered, just audibly, 'I do.'

Everything vanished. White light encased my mind.

Was it possible... that someone who knew nothing of me could care...

For me?

She didn't know me. I didn't know her. I knew nothing of Compassion- of Sango- of belonging.

When she said that, I learned later that I had cried- and it wasn't by Calamity's bidding.

That day, I met her husband- a lecherous, constantly happy man- Miroku. He was a lawyer for a law firm run by Sesshomaru Takahashi. His interest in my past also brought me to tears, but I wouldn't speak of it... It hurt too much. Or, perhaps, it was that he cared in the first place- him and Sango. He was persistent, but he learned, very slowly, that I would not speak.

Three weeks after I met him, he looked to his wife and nodded. 'She should meet him. It would help.'

Again, the word help brought a heavy feeling of lead in my stomach.

I couldn't handle any more help...

Thankfully, I thought, a week went by before I met Sango's friend..."

* * *

A/N: I would like to thank all of my reviewers for their support. Especially Lenne-chan and Ama (Shades of Oblivion for reminding me- 'Quality over quantity'. -Smiles- Thank you.

Next chapter is the last one. Please review and tell me what you think.


	4. I Was Thrown Away

"So, a month had gone by from Sango's declaration before you met me?"

"Yes. She told me later that she had to make an appointment- I was living with her at that time, by the way. Supposedly, you were over run that month and they even had to call in another man to take some of your newest patients, but she wouldn't allow another man to prod my mind. Said it was fragile and precious, which made me bawl even harder than usual."

"She was right, you know?" the man asked rhetorically. He leaned over to place a kiss on her forehead. "And I'm glad she didn't let that idiot Kouga take you in."

"..."

"Sorry, I forgot."

"I wonder how Ayame is doing... I guess me cutting myself in front of her traumatized her pretty bad."

"Yeah, but Kouga can't thank you enough," the silver-haired man chuckled, capturing her lips. She reveled in the joy, the magical feel of his mouth against her own, the touch of another human being who loved her the way she needed to be loved, to be cared for, to be wanted. He pulled away for a breath. "Kagome..."

She blinked, her eyes shining. "I thought you wanted to hear my story, Inuyasha..."

He grinned. "Of course. Continue."

"It was on a Saturday, a week before my 18th birthday. I had been tossed out of the orphanage at 16, and I was in the Mental Clinic for a little over a year. We, Sango, Miroku, and I, were in the car before I was ever told where we were going. I suppose Sango was smart with her way of telling me after it was too late. After all, I couldn't not see a person when they were taking an hour out of their day just to talk to me...

Then I found out- lucky me- he had let Sango schedule four hours, back to back, just for me.

Here I was, being thrown away by someone I knew. I didn't think she'd come back for me... and when she pulled out of the parking lot with Miroku in the seat beside her, I met Acceptance again and I folded. I gave up hope.

After all those years of no one caring and me still hoping, it took someone who cared leaving me for hope to finally mean nothing anymore.

I wished... for the first time... that I could find someone that wouldn't throw me away.

That wouldn't throw me away...

That wouldn't throw me away...

That would care.

I found a piece of glass, probably a broken beer bottle, and pressed it to my wrist. However, my wish was granted just before the razor like glass broke my skin.

Hands wrapped around my wrists, separating them and retching the glass from my grasp. I gasped in surprise and looked up to find golden eyes... Golden like the sunset I watched from my window before Daddy had thrown me away, before Mamma got pregnant, before Grandma forgot me, before Grandpa stopped caring... I saw silver hair forming a river of silk like that of Mamma's birthday dress she wore when I was five, when everything was right in my life and everyone cared for someone, for me.

Then I saw the red of the person's shirt.

Blood red.

And, in my mind, I saw it.

My blood.

It hadn't changed.

I hadn't changed.

... And I knew, in my soul, that the blood didn't mean anything at the moment...

This person, this man, was the beginning and the end of my change, of my sad story. He was what I hoped for, what I wished for...

And I turned to praying right then and there. I prayed to God, the same one that I for so long forsaken, that the feeling in my soul was right, that this was where I'd finally find what my heart was craving for. That he was what I needed to make my shoulders rise and squelch the need for human contact.

He must have heard the prayer I sent Him, because, gradually, I saw it happen. When we were in his office and he was showing me the pictures all psychologists had... His eyes were dull... He didn't want those answers...

What else was I to tell him?

Mama had a miscarriage one day.

Daddy had a stroke when he learned.

Grandma died of a heart attack that morning.

Grandpa of a broken heart that afternoon.

I was thrown away in the evening.

I was thrown away.

I was thrown away.

I was thrown away.

The words just repeated themselves, over and over and over...

That night, when I was back at Sango's, I cried myself to sleep. First, Sango had come back for me.... and second... I couldn't tell him. What would he think of me? That I was a disease to society!? That I wasn't worth his time!?

... But, then again, I wasn't... I felt I wasn't worth anyone's time...

It continued, the sessions. Though, they were only an hour long.

A month had gone by before everything I knew was destroyed.

'Kagome, why are you still lying? You've been here for a while now, and you still-'

'You don't care, so don't pretend!' I wasn't giving up my belief that no one cared. I couldn't!

Even with my soul screaming and my prayer sent to God, I couldn't let it go... It was all that I knew for certain about everything else... 'I'm so sick of all these lies! All these lies! I don't want to hear them! No one cared, no one cares!'

'Sango and Miroku do...' he said calmly. 'Why can't you believe I do, also?'

'Because! I know people like you!' I had shouted, looking for something to throw...

Where was Chaos to help me? She seemed to have vanished.

Where was Calamity to quiet me? She never showed.

Where was Confusion? She had taken time off for once.

And I knew this because I understood he was telling the truth and I wasn't mad, I wasn't sad, I was lost. I was lost in his words. I had nothing to comfort me, because everywhere I looked, I only saw foreign things, foreign feelings.

Compassion met me again... or so I thought.

I fought her this time. I didn't want her. I wanted Chaos, my oldest prominent friend.

'People like you don't care to hear the truth! They want to hear what they think is the truth, they want to hear what's easiest for them to understand and cure! Ha! Cure!' I laughed humorlessly. 'Some cure! The only thing that every helped me was the sight of my own blood, the feel of extraordinarily soothing pain! Excruciating pain! Unbearable pain! It's all that let me know I was alive, I was a human who bled like any other, I was a person with feelings!

'I cared for myself- myself!- and no one else did! I bled my blood by cutting my own arms! I bled my blood and cured my wounds! I bled and no one cared! You aren't any different- you with your sick ways of 'healing' a person. Oh, yes, sure- tell them you care to hear and disregard what they say, you mangy bastard, but you'll collect the money all the same!'

He just looked at me. I could see him gritting his teeth for the duration of my tirade... until my last sentence.

'... I'm not getting paid for your sessions.'

'He's lying,' Chaos screamed, returning at last.

'He's like all those others, lying to hear what he wants to hear,' Calamity whispered. 'He's using you for the money he's lying about.'

'He's telling the truth. Look in his eyes. You can see the honesty... and pain... and anger.' Compassion began to possess me, pushing Kagome out of the way. 'He's like you. He's had pains in his past, you've angered him like he angered you. Yet, do you think anyone heard his story?'

I couldn't answer her. I was wrapped in the feelings in his eyes... They held me so close and told me so much, I was speechless. Chaos and Calamity sighed and left and I sank to the ground beneath me, still locked in his gaze of molten gold.

'I doubt anyone cared to listen.'

'What happened to you?' The gentle words left my throat before I could hold them back.

'What?'

'Your eyes... You were hurt in the past.'

'If I tell you, will you start telling me the truth?' he asked after a few minutes' worth of deep thought.

I blinked and nodded. And he told his story for the next three weeks.

On the fourth week... I walked into his office and found him laying down on the couch, staring at the ceiling. It didn't surprise me, but his voice did.

'Kagome... How do you tell if you're in love?'

The day before, he had told me of Kikyou, his ex-wife. His words were passionate to the point we were both spilling tears onto the soft earth-tone carpeting. He had loved her, that much I was certain of. I knew something of love, right then when I thought hard and long about it. I had been loved once. Once upon a time, that is.

'You are asking the wrong person,' I replied, taking my seat in his chair. 'I don't remember the feeling...'

He looked at me with alarm written on his face. 'How is that possible? Everyone has someone to love them.'

'Not an orphan. Not a suicidal, homeless woman.' I had spoken with no feelings in my words, but inside, those words hurt. 'Not an orphaned suicidal former mental hospital resident. Not me.'

'That's ridiculous. Someone loves you.'

'God?'

'No. I mean flesh and bones. There is someone out there that cares enough to love you,' he said, sitting up and reaching for my hands. 'Sango loves you as a sister, Miroku as a brother...'

My eyes swelled with tears as I realized he was right. I could feel it- love. I could feel it from them. It was that sense of belonging that I felt. It was there to comfort me when I was near them. Sango's eyes told me. Miroku's attitude told me- I think I'm the only woman he never touch inappropriately...

I couldn't believe I'd been so blind...

I looked up to meet his gaze...

How could I have been so blind?

'... How do you know if you're in love...?' my mind repeated his question.

'You just do... You just do,' I whispered. 'You just know it...'

And I saw it in his eyes, too. I saw that sheen of light and life glaze his eyes in a misty way, leaving his feelings both clouded and vulnerable. There it was... waiting for me to give Acceptance a chance to speak...

'... Is that so?' he implored, a smirk lighting up his face.

'... Yeah, that's so, Inuyasha.'

And, as you know, I got my first kiss... I got my first kiss at the age of 18 by a 25 year old man I loved... My first kiss of any form by anyone in more than 11 years...

And in my mind...

I saw it.

My blood.

It had changed.

Now it pulsed from a heart learning love again.

I had changed.

And with my change, the world and its' people changed.

I cared.

I was cared for.

I was caring for another.

I was loving another.

I was being loved.

I loved.

My only friends found a balance and were finally put to rest- Chaos, Calamity, Confusion, Compassion, Comprehension, and Acceptance- and Insecurity and Rejection, they slowly lifted from my shoulders and faded away... The abyss in my soul slowly healed... and it's still healing...

But I can live with that. I can live with that."

"Kagome..."

Said girl shook off her images of the past, focusing on the voice calling to her. "Yes, Inuyasha?"

"I... Thank you."

"For what?"

"For telling me... trusting me..."

Kagome lifted an eyebrow. "Oh? Nothing else?"

"And for listening to my story..."

"... and?"

Inuyasha glared. "You're going to make me say it, aren't you?"

"You haven't yet," she giggled, finally able to breath again after reciting her life's story.

He grumbled and shook his head. "And loving me."

"Keh." She smiled. "Thank you for everything, Inuyasha."

In the silence that followed, Kagome breathed deeply, inhaling the love swirling about her from the man sitting in the chair he had earned from many years of listening to others' stories and having no one listen to his. She felt the sliver of pain within her breath that was his past, and exhaled it, sending it to the heavens in a silent prayer that the man never feel such things again.

Perhaps the heavens received it... Maybe not... But she still held on to the hope that it did.

Her love sighed and stood, smiling down at her. She rose beside him and wrapped her arms about his waist, loosely for she knew he'd be there for her always. She didn't need to grasp on tight to reassure her. Love was enough.

Love was enough.

"'Mama had a miscarriage'... You know," Inuyasha began, gathering the woman at his side as they walked out of the room and passed the empty waiting area, "this would make a great story."

Kagome frowned and twisted her head to look up at the man she loved so strongly. "I believe I said the same about your past."

"You did," he chuckled. "And you're right. They'd both be wonderful stories..."

"Well, perhaps we'll have to write them down some day, in detail."

"Yeah..." he breathed, gazing at the stars while Kagome focused her eyes upon his handsome profile. She loved him in every way possible... and with the stars outlining him with his silver tresses and golden eyes... "Perhaps."

... She knew her sad story was at its end.

And her fairytale had just begun.

Mama had a miscarriage one day.

Daddy had a stroke when he learned.

Grandma died of a heart attack that morning.

Grandpa of a broken heart that after noon.

I was thrown away that evening.

I was thrown away.

I was.

I was thrown away that evening.

I was thrown to love.

} { [ ] } { [ ] } { [ ] } { The End } { [ ] } { [ ] } { [ ] } {

A/N: I want to thank all of my reviewers. You were all wonderful! All of your opinions, no matter what they were, were deeply appreciated and I wish you would know that. Honestly thank you, but this is the last chapter- sorry to say. I had fun writting it, after all. I hope you enjoyed reading as much I enjoyed typing it out.

Again, thank you.


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